Second Impressions
by Fudgyokra
Summary: Mordecai runs into someone he never thought he'd see again…and it turns out to be really, really awkward. Mentioned Mordeson, human AU.


**Second Impressions**

Or: The One-Night Stand Problem

**A/N:** This came out of the blue. If you follow me, you're probably sitting there wondering why I've written this, even though my South Park phase is in full swing and I've never given even a tiny indication that I held any love for this show or this pairing. Well…surprise! Though I am more of a Morby kind of girl, the idea that I'm working with (which hails from Tumblr user wxnslow) fit Mordeson much better.

I hope you guys enjoy this short, ridiculous little thing! Note: Slightly sexual conversation occurs in the following oneshot.

* * *

Rigby was awake at six o'clock in the morning. From his point of view, this was absolutely nuts. He hadn't woken up that early since high school, and even then his timeliness only lasted until he was old enough to drive and, by extension, skip school. The time of day glared at him from the microwave clock. He glared right back.

The only reason he was up this early was because Mordecai had gotten them a job interview at the local park, which seemed like such a wonderful idea until he actually had to wake up for it. Said best friend was currently sitting across the table from him in their shared kitchen, pouring Rigby a cup of coffee and hogging the rest down himself, straight from the pot. He looked like hell, Rigby noted. He knew exactly why.

"So, how was it?" he asked offhandedly, knowing there was no reason to tiptoe around the subject he was about to bring up. His friend was very, very open about it.

"What? The coffee or the one-night stand?" Mordecai replied in the same casual fashion.

"Both."

"Both were pretty hot."

"Gross." Rigby snickered, wiped a hand down his face, and swallowed the last quarter of his morning fuel in one gulp. "Fuck, I'm tired."

"You're tellin' me, dude."

"Again, gross."

"You wanna hear about it?"

"Go for it."

The two of them abandoned their dishes on the table before they headed out the door, Mordecai in the lead with his jacket slung over his shoulder and his cell phone pressed against his ear, and Rigby a few paces behind, swiping aimlessly at his smudged eyeliner with his index finger.

"The guy that gave us our interview left a message saying he'll meet us at the gate," the taller of them said as he tucked his phone in his pocket.

"Whatever. Get to the sex part."

Mordecai laughed and shoved him so hard he wobbled sideways for a second. "Okay, okay, so I met the guy at Cheezers when I was picking up our sandwiches."

"Classy."

"Shut up! We both had to wait in line for_ever_. What else were we supposed to do but talk to each other?"

"Leave?"

"Uh, yeah, and get to hear you bitch about me not bringing your food?" Mordecai grinned at Rigby's resigned mumbling. "We talked long enough for me to figure out that he totally _sucks _at talking to chicks."

"So you've got something in common?" Rigby asked in his cheeky, "picking a fight" voice; this was met with a swift punch to the arm, which he punctuated with a sharp, "Ow!"

"I did say that, though—that I wasn't very good at it, either. And that it was easier to talk to guys." The duo paused at the crosswalk, giving Mordecai enough time to transition into what Rigby declared to be the "good part" of the tale while he impatiently mashed the button. "He was attractive in, like, an older guy kind of way. You know, scruffy and tired-looking."

"Was he bald?"

"No, man. He was a redhead. He had a little stubble goin' on and everything, too. Like a hot dad."

"He has _kids?_"

"No! Well, not that I know of. God, that'd be awkward, but I'm pretty sure he would've told me if there had been kids in his apartment."

Rigby erupted in a fit of laughter and crude jokes that lasted all the way to the bus stop, where they sat on the vacant bench and awaited their transportation. Mordecai checked his watch, leaned back, and crossed his ankles in succession. The silence between them lived a short life before the question they both knew was coming finally reared its head.

"So…how big?"

"I don't kiss and tell like that, dude."

"It was worth a shot."

"I can't believe he actually went with it, though. He didn't seem like the type of person to get involved with things like that. He said he used to be a partier, but from the looks of him… I mean, I didn't really believe him, but maybe it's true."

"Was he good?"

"He didn't do much of anything besides make demands."

"Oooohhhh, you got a bossy guy."

"Haha, yeah, I did. But it was totally cool."

Their chatter was cut short when the bus arrived, and they allowed only a quick word every now and then until they'd made it to their final destination. After the required coins were deposited into a grubby-looking machine, the bus unloaded two brand new workers onto park property, then took off without missing a beat.

"I got one more question," Rigby announced as they headed up the path to the huge gateway. "Are you gonna see him again, or what?"

"Nah, probably not."

"Do you remember his name?"

"I'm not that awful, Rigby. Yes, I remember his name. It was—"

"Benson! Oh, Benson! The new employees are here!" A skinny man with startlingly old-fashioned attire came barreling out of the park toward them with open arms. Rigby managed to duck in time to avoid the incoming hug. Mordecai, however, was frozen in his spot, locked in the stranger's hold and looking as though all the blood had drained from his face.

Another park employee materialized in front of Rigby, who, immediately upon spotting him, let his mouth fall open. This was too good to be true, he thought. _Incredible. _He looked back at Mordecai for confirmation, only to see that his friend was covering his face with both hands.

The employee—the boss, if the clipboard that his eyes were glued to was any indication—responded to the strangely-dressed man in a manner that suggested he was used to such giddy calls to attention. "I know, Pops. I could hear the bus coming from a mile away." Once these words were out of his mouth, he lifted his head to look at his new arrivals.

"Um—" It sounded like words were caught in his throat, but he managed to choke out, "They can't be...these aren't the new workers, are they?"

Pops nodded vigorously. "This is Rigby," he said, pointing to the man in question, "and this is Mordecai." He clapped the taller of them on the shoulder pointedly.

Mordecai withdrew his hands from his face and waved sheepishly at his new boss. "Haha, hey, Benson… It's, uh, nice to see you again…"

Dead silence. It lasted a grueling ten seconds, and then Rigby broke it by literally falling to the ground in his bout of laughter. He was enjoying himself, grabbing his sides and wheezing, whereas Benson and Mordecai stood stock-still in their own private hell, and Pops just looked generally confused on the sidelines.

"What on earth is going on?" the latter inquired innocently.

Benson pursed his lips, turned around, and began heading back toward the house. "Nothing, Pops. Just show them around. I have to go take some Tylenol and a few shots of whiskey."

Rigby was the first to follow Pops in. For once in his life, he was thrilled to be awake this early in the morning. His friend did not exactly share his enthusiasm. With a toothy grin, he elbowed the other lightly and whispered, "So, Mordo, I guess Benson's not just bossing you around in bed now, huh?"

Mordecai promptly and firmly punched him in the arm.


End file.
